


Nothing Left to Lose

by Rhianona



Series: au-bingo [5]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, au_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhianona/pseuds/Rhianona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War Office has a request for the Honorable Mister Nathaniel Ford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Left to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> written for the au-bingo prompt: Historical: Napoleonic Europe

The Honorable Mister Nathaniel Ford sat in the comfortable wingback chair in Whites. He sipped his brandy while waiting for his cousin to arrive. It was not his first drink of the day and from past experience, it would not be the last. He did not particularly care; little bothered him presently, as strung out in grief as he was. The death of his beloved wife and son echoed in his heart and some days only the efforts of his valet and housekeeper made him presentable for polite company.

Nate had all but become a recluse, content to sit amongst his memories whilst paying desultory attention to his estate. He ignored all but the most important _ton_ engagements and by that, he meant those thrown by family. (He was not yet so far gone as to ignore familial summons.)

Hence, his current attendance at Whites. His cousin, the Duke of H—-, had requested his presence and one did not just ignore a Duke’s command, even one who shared kinship. Nate did not know why his cousin wished to speak to him and here of all places, but then he had not kept up with the family gossip as much as he once might have done. Maggie had always kept him informed of the goings on of his numerous relatives.

“Nathaniel,” his cousin said as he sat opposite of him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Jerrod,” Nathaniel greeted. He paused for a moment and decided putting his drink down was the politic thing to do, so did. “You’re looking well. How is your lovely wife doing?”

The soft smile, hinting at the love Jerrod had for his wife, brought a pang to Nate’s heart. Once, not that long ago, he would have reacted the same. But that was in the past, when Maggie had still lived; he shook his head slightly to clear it and waited for his cousin’s reply. “She is well. She asks for you often.” A slight reprimand for his lack of social graces lately, which Nate accepted with a wince and a nod.

“That is kind of her,” he said.

“Yes, indeed,” Jerrod replied. He took his own snifter of brandy and rolled it around in his hands. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “You know you only have to ask.” And not just because Jerrod was head of his family. No, it went further than that — Nate actually liked his cousin quite a bit.

Jerrod gave him a smile of approval but shook his head. “This isn’t a family matter,” he said. “I was approached by some men at Whitehall. They would like me to arrange a meeting with you.”

His heart pounded; he had a sickening feeling he knew which men had asked for Jerrod’s help. The men he had worked for in the War Office before Maggie’s death. Before Sam’s death. Before his life had irrevocably changed. And only one of them would be so cruel as to ask to meet with him again.

“What does Blackstone want with me now?” he asked. He wanted to slouch in his chair but propriety would not allow him to do so. Instead, he grabbed his snifter again and took a healthy gulp from it.

If Jerrod was startled by his question, he did not show it. “Even a Duke is not told everything, especially when it comes to the war effort,” he chided instead.

“The war effort, huh?” Nate asked and tried to keep his derision from his voice. He had not liked working with Blackstone; the man had little regard for the men whose lives they directed through their orders to the front. Blackstone cared for one thing and one thing only: himself.

“Yes, the war effort. They have a proposition for you.”

Nate sighed and took another sip from his almost empty glass. “For the war effort then. I suppose I can meet with them.”

Jerrod gave him a smile, the one he gave to family and particularly close friends. “Good. If you will dine with me tonight, you can meet with them and find out what they want.”

He hid his dismay at that; he had hoped he would have time to prepare for any meeting with Blackstone. On the other hand, perhaps it would be best to simply get it over with. “Very well. At eight, then?” he said.

“If you would like to come earlier, you may. Elizabeth and the children would like to see you.”

Nate inclined his head and stood. “Until then,” he said and turned to leave. He had only a few hours in which to prepare, hours which he would need.

***

Blackstone, Sterling, Hardwicke, and Thompson all had the courtesy to wait until after Elizabeth and the other ladies had withdrawn and Jerrod had made his own excuses before they had turned to Nate and put forth their request.

“We would like to put you back into the field,” Sterling said.

“Do you. And you think I’ll just agree?” Nate asked. He played with the glass of port in front of him. Blackstone, he noted out of the corner of his eye, chomped hard on the cigar in his mouth.

“We… hope you will,” Sterling said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of Nate’s wariness in working for them again.

“On the Continent then?” Nate asked. “Spain perhaps? Or France?”

“We have reason to believe there’s a well-placed spy attached to Colonel Smithe’s post on the Franco-Spanish border,” Hardwicke took over from Sterling.

“Do not tell me that you do not have agents already placed who could aid you,” Nate scoffed. He took a sip of his port and examined the four men who sat at the table with him.

They exchanged glances and looked nervous. “You might as well tell him,” Sterling said. Hardwicke sighed and turned his attention back to Nate.

“We do not know if we can trust our current agents. We’re not quite sure who is behind the information that is getting out to good old Boney.”

“I see,” Nate said.

“You would not do this alone,” Hardwicke continued, as if he could persuade Nate with words alone. “We’ve gathered a… team of… experts to help you.”

From the way he spoke, Nate had a feeling that there was something more to the it than that. He sighed and knew he had damned himself even before he spoke the words. “Just who is on this team?”

Sterling pulled out a pack of papers from his jacket pocket and tossed them to Nate. He, in turn, placed his glass of port down and opened the packet. He shuffled through the papers, an eyebrow raising as he took in the names and details. Finally, he had seen enough and looked at the four gentlemen sitting at his cousin’s table with a fierceness that had been absent since his wife and son’s deaths.

“Surely you jest!” he said. He dropped the papers to the table and gestured towards them. “These… these people are little more than common _criminals_!”

“Now, Mister Ford,” Hardwicke began, “they may not seem ideal but we believe their skills will prove an asset.”

“Really?” Nate asked, his tone harsh with suppressed anger. “A thief suspected of stealing countless masterpieces from museums and private homes alike. Another who regularly inveigles her way into the highest of social circles to relieve gentlemen of their purses. A freed slave who is a master forger and who invents the most peculiar of devices and then uses them to commit crimes. And the dissolute bastard son of Lord S—, who sells his skills to the highest bidder. This — _this_ — is the team with whom you wish me to work?”

“Ah… you know of their reputations?” Hardwicke asked, looking slightly surprised. Nate merely raised his eyebrow.

“Of course he does,” Blackstone replied, speaking for the first time. He coughed after removing his cigar from his mouth. “Mister Ford was one of our most promising agents before his… personal tragedy took him from the field.” Nate sent him a hard glance but refrained from saying anything to the man he blamed in some small part for the deaths of his family. If not for him, he would have been home and could have prevented Maggie and Sam from taking the carriage ride that led to their deaths.

An awkward silence filled the room, Blackstone’s words echoing as the other men shifted in their seats and tried to figure out the words that would bring him back to the fold.

“I will make a decision in two days,” Nate said. He ignored their instinctive protests; they might have wished to take him by surprise with their request and hope he would simply agree, but he wanted — needed — to make the decision himself. Not in the heat of the moment.

“Two days,” Sterling finally agreed. The others stood to leave, even if Hardwicke had prodded Blackstone to rise — the other man liked his brandy and port.

“Gentlemen,” Nate said and nodded tightly as they left, Sterling the last out the door.

“Mister Ford,” he said and hesitated. Nate waited patiently for the man to gather his courage and say what he would. “I understand why you left the business, but… we need you. The men need you.”

Nate barely held the grimace of distaste that wanted to flit across his face. The call of loyalty to the men who fought against the tyrannical Frog should not have surprised him. “You must be desperate,” was all he said and watched as Sterling failed to hide his own grimace. “Two days,” he said again and this time, Sterling nodded and left without another word.

***

Nate waited until the next day before he approached Jerrod. His cousin seemed to have expected him as his secretary ushered him into the Ducal study with nary a word. With pleasantries aside, he sat and studied his cousin, an action Jerrod allowed without a word of protest.

“How involved are you truly with the war effort?” Nate finally inquired.

Jerrod raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Very well then,” Nate replied, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile. “I am heading to the Continent to do my duty.” Clearly, they would not speak on what his cousin might or might not know; mayhap that was the better part of valor. If his cousin did not acknowledge what he knew, he could disavow Nate if his actions shamed the family.

“I sail in a fortnight,” he informed his cousin and made ready to make his leave.

“Be careful,” Jerrod warned just as Nate reached the door. Whether he meant personal safety or something else would forever remain a mystery. Nate turned and gave a short bow.

“Certainly,” he said and left.

***

A week later, Nate boarded the ship that would deposit him on the shores of France. He did not bring much more than a basic kit; there was no room for members of the _haut ton_ where he intended to go.

He had a new team to forge and together, they would do what they could to thwart the upstart currently ravaging Europe.

He hoped.

 _/fin_


End file.
